Director on Coalition for Homeless board has been there himself

Ronnie Grimsley, who once lived in the woods, now has a place at Palmetto House transitional housing in Daytona Beach.

News-Journal/NIGEL COOK

ANDREW GANTSTAFF WRITER

Published: Sunday, February 10, 2013 at 5:36 p.m.

Last Modified: Sunday, February 10, 2013 at 9:51 p.m.

DAYTONA BEACH -- Ronnie Grimsley's room in Palmetto House, the biggest transitional housing facility in the Volusia-Flagler area, isn't much bigger than a walk-in closet. But it beats living in the woods.

Grimsley, now four years sober and far from the homeless camp where he lived on scavenged food and stolen beer, has been out of the woods long enough to become one of Palmetto's longest residents. One person in the 48-room home next to Daytona Beach City Hall has been there longer than Grimsley.

He's no longer the drunk man wedging hand warmers inside his clothes to stay warm in winter. But he's also not entirely out of the woods just yet.

"I couldn't do anything except go to Walmart and steal and drink," Grimsley said recently over a cigarette outside Palmetto House. "I couldn't get out. That's the way it is."

That he did get out is what's made Grimsley a resource for the homeless and the people who work with them in Volusia and Flagler counties. Since former Volusia County Councilman Andy Kelly brought him out of the camp and into rehab at Serenity House in DeLand, Grimsley has become a director on the board of the Volusia/Flagler County Coalition for the Homeless, and a regular guest at speaking engagements around the area.

He's better at those speaking gigs than he was at his job in the kitchen at Serenity House (now Haven Recovery Center), where Grimsley says he burned the soup every day.

At Palmetto, he sweeps the floors and is a friend to just about everyone in the building. Most days, he fishes off the Orange Avenue drawbridge, just around the corner from his home.

Also around the corner is the Cinematique Theater of Daytona, which, on Friday, was playing the local homeless documentary "Out of the Woods" — featuring a Grimsley of four years ago looking more tired, more worried, more unhappy than the one at Palmetto House today.

"Everybody needs an opportunity like Ronnie had," said filmmaker Michael Arth, who's long been advocating a housing community for the homeless on county land near the Volusia Branch Jail and other county facilities. "The only reason Ronnie got out is because he got his Social Security. If he hadn't gotten that, he'd still be in the woods. He was able to buy his way out."

It's true that Grimsley has been able to pay for his housing out of Social Security disability benefits. He didn't have that money initially, and when he left Serenity, he had a 30-day voucher for shelter at the Salvation Army, and that was all. Before long, Grimsley knew he didn't want to stay: "I couldn't stand it anymore," he said. "I was around drunks."

Still penniless, he found Palmetto House — run by Mike Coleman, a recovering alcoholic and addict who was once homeless himself. The facility charges rent to help pay the bills, but Coleman let him in for free. He stayed that way for 18 months. When his disability check came through, Grimsley paid his back rent and started paying up front.

"Ronnie paid us every nickel he owed us," Coleman said. "A lot of integrity there, man, because he could have walked out the door."

There's a sense of community at Palmetto House, though, that keeps a lot of people from just walking out. The residents have jobs at the house and agree to random drug tests. Many of them are in recovery programs. They pay enough rent to essentially make the program self-sustaining — Coleman said this year will be the first time Palmetto House doesn't need United Way money to cover its expenses.

"What we've found is that by clients doing the work here, it builds self-esteem," Coleman said. "It makes you proud of where you live, and it really becomes a big family. Like the 72 people here, it's a gigantic family. They look out for one another, and they do the work here."

"We don't have our hand out for government funding," he said. "We look at ourselves as truly a community asset, rather than a liability."

Grimsley has lingering medical issues; he walks with a noticeable limp and is prescribed a long list of medications. He's been reliant on painkillers in the past, and his disability benefits restrict the income he's allowed to earn. Still, he's going back to Daytona State College in March, which could be one step toward getting back his nursing license and finding a modest job working with Alzheimer's patients.

The job he's landed in now, though, is about helping more people get out of the woods like he did.

"Most homeless people don't have a choice — they become homeless because of circumstance," Grimsley said. "I'd like to see them build more shelters, somehow get them off the street."

<p>DAYTONA BEACH -- Ronnie Grimsley's room in Palmetto House, the biggest transitional housing facility in the Volusia-Flagler area, isn't much bigger than a walk-in closet. But it beats living in the woods. </p><p>Grimsley, now four years sober and far from the homeless camp where he lived on scavenged food and stolen beer, has been out of the woods long enough to become one of Palmetto's longest residents. One person in the 48-room home next to Daytona Beach City Hall has been there longer than Grimsley. </p><p>He's no longer the drunk man wedging hand warmers inside his clothes to stay warm in winter. But he's also not entirely out of the woods just yet. </p><p>"I couldn't do anything except go to Walmart and steal and drink," Grimsley said recently over a cigarette outside Palmetto House. "I couldn't get out. That's the way it is." </p><p>That he did get out is what's made Grimsley a resource for the homeless and the people who work with them in Volusia and Flagler counties. Since former Volusia County Councilman Andy Kelly brought him out of the camp and into rehab at Serenity House in DeLand, Grimsley has become a director on the board of the Volusia/Flagler County Coalition for the Homeless, and a regular guest at speaking engagements around the area. </p><p>He's better at those speaking gigs than he was at his job in the kitchen at Serenity House (now Haven Recovery Center), where Grimsley says he burned the soup every day. </p><p>At Palmetto, he sweeps the floors and is a friend to just about everyone in the building. Most days, he fishes off the Orange Avenue drawbridge, just around the corner from his home. </p><p>Also around the corner is the Cinematique Theater of Daytona, which, on Friday, was playing the local homeless documentary "Out of the Woods" &mdash; featuring a Grimsley of four years ago looking more tired, more worried, more unhappy than the one at Palmetto House today. </p><p>"Everybody needs an opportunity like Ronnie had," said filmmaker Michael Arth, who's long been advocating a housing community for the homeless on county land near the Volusia Branch Jail and other county facilities. "The only reason Ronnie got out is because he got his Social Security. If he hadn't gotten that, he'd still be in the woods. He was able to buy his way out." </p><p>It's true that Grimsley has been able to pay for his housing out of Social Security disability benefits. He didn't have that money initially, and when he left Serenity, he had a 30-day voucher for shelter at the Salvation Army, and that was all. Before long, Grimsley knew he didn't want to stay: "I couldn't stand it anymore," he said. "I was around drunks." </p><p>Still penniless, he found Palmetto House &mdash; run by Mike Coleman, a recovering alcoholic and addict who was once homeless himself. The facility charges rent to help pay the bills, but Coleman let him in for free. He stayed that way for 18 months. When his disability check came through, Grimsley paid his back rent and started paying up front. </p><p>"Ronnie paid us every nickel he owed us," Coleman said. "A lot of integrity there, man, because he could have walked out the door." </p><p>There's a sense of community at Palmetto House, though, that keeps a lot of people from just walking out. The residents have jobs at the house and agree to random drug tests. Many of them are in recovery programs. They pay enough rent to essentially make the program self-sustaining &mdash; Coleman said this year will be the first time Palmetto House doesn't need United Way money to cover its expenses. </p><p>"What we've found is that by clients doing the work here, it builds self-esteem," Coleman said. "It makes you proud of where you live, and it really becomes a big family. Like the 72 people here, it's a gigantic family. They look out for one another, and they do the work here." </p><p>"We don't have our hand out for government funding," he said. "We look at ourselves as truly a community asset, rather than a liability." </p><p>Grimsley has lingering medical issues; he walks with a noticeable limp and is prescribed a long list of medications. He's been reliant on painkillers in the past, and his disability benefits restrict the income he's allowed to earn. Still, he's going back to Daytona State College in March, which could be one step toward getting back his nursing license and finding a modest job working with Alzheimer's patients. </p><p>The job he's landed in now, though, is about helping more people get out of the woods like he did. </p><p>"Most homeless people don't have a choice &mdash; they become homeless because of circumstance," Grimsley said. "I'd like to see them build more shelters, somehow get them off the street."</p>